October 04, 2008

Ahh, postseason baseball. Bleary-eyed at 1:42 am, after a roller-coaster ride of a game.

The Red Sox have continued their merciless beatdown of the Angels in the postseason tonight, but not without another short outing from Daisuke on the big stage and a blown save for Papelbon, even though it was Justin Masterson's hitter (Masterson also walked a run in. Yikes). In general, Sox pitching allowed Anaheim leadoff runners on base, meaning we spent a lot of time playing their kind of game.

The stadium in Anaheim did finally come alive tonight as the Angels clawed their way back from a four-run deficit after another Jason Bay home run in the top of the first, a Torii Hunter RBI single in the bottom of the first, and an Ellsbury RBI double in the fourth. The Angels players, too, seemed to be electrified by their own success. After Chone Figgins' triple in the eighth with the lead closed to one, you'd have thought they'd won the game already--and for a minute or two there, it really did look like Anaheim would be making it a series.

Although, the Halos did also spend much of this game flailing in a very disconcerting way--like when Torii Hunter leaped in protest after being called out at first base in the third and came down awkwardly on his leg, twisting his knee and ankle. Or when Coco Crisp was called safe on a pickoff attempt in the top of the ninth, and Erick Aybar literally waved his arms above his head flipping out about the call. And just what kind of acid was Garrett Anderson on when he let Mark Kotsay's single drop in front of him in left field in the top of the first?

But even if they lost their cool at times, the Angels still had fight in them after the Coco pickoff controversy. The fans were incensed, as well, beating away with their Thunderstix.

And then JD Drew came up and said, that will be enough of that. With ice-cold blood and malice aforethought, he launched a two-run home run to center field to make it 7-5 Sox, which would be your final score. It was a blow even the bombastic K-Rod couldn't stomach, and he hung his head as JD began his businesslike trot around the bases.

According to The Baseball Analysts, the team with the better record has won only 49% of all playoff series since 1995; the team with the better record has won only 38% of the World Series titles since 1995. I wonder why that is.

October 02, 2008

At
the end of this game, with the Sox up 4-1, the camera showed Boston
fans at the park gesturing incredulously at Angels fans who were
leaving with baseball still left to be played.

I
understood watching this why some people think Sox fans are assholes. It did seem like they were taunting frustrated Angels fans and
rubbing it in as they throw in the towel.

But by the same token--why WERE those fans leaving? Not just then, but when it was 2-1 as well?

It
was still a save situation - and Jonathan Papelbon has not been quite so infallible this year. They were only down three runs. It's only
game 1. I don't understand it either. And I wonder if at least some of the Sox
fans' incredulity was genuine.

In
some ways this dynamic was reflected on the field - the Red Sox seemed
almost defiant, at times pulling defensive plays literally out of
nowhere. By the time the Sox had gone ahead, even Angels players looked
vaguely sick. By the time Big Papi's single made it 4-1, they were shaking their heads in consternation in the dugout. While Jonathan
Papelbon did give up a hit in the 9th, it was clear the life had gone out of Anaheim
for the night.

Even Vladi Guerrerro looked peevish, especially after he tried to advance two bases instead of one in the bottom of the eighth and was thrown out. By the ninth inning, the Angels were visibly cooked.

Meanwhile, as has been said around here for the last few days, the Sox are "playing with house money." The pressure's on Anaheim to overcome its years of history against the Red Sox. If the Red Sox are beaten, Anaheim has clearly been the better team all along. Mentally, at least, the Red Sox have almost nothing to lose - and they were playing like it.

A great example of this was Lowrie's error that kept the third inning going and let the Angels take a 1-0 lead. After it happened, neither Lowrie or his teammates skipped a beat. I can recall previous years where this kind of thing has not been so simple. I can recall previous years where the weight of the uniform suddenly became leaden after such an event - where that sick look would appear on the faces of Sox players and fans. That look that says, here we go again. Being on the other side of that equation now is by turns strange and liberating.

Guerrerro's putout at third was another good example of an instance where I thought the Red Sox had that mental advantage. Guerrerro was, in part, thrown out because it was a bad idea to try to take third and because he seems to be hobbled and not running well. But it was also because Kevin Youkilis, having dropped Torii Hunter's popup in shallow right and fallen all over himself in the attempt, hesitated for nary a second before picking up the ball and rifling it over to third base, where it beat Guerrerro by 15 feet.

The Angels have been formidable this year, and things are so far from over, it's not even funny. By no means do I think the Sox will sweep them again. The Angels do have the tools to beat the Sox - they proved it over and over again this season. But the Red Sox have come in with the strongest attitude possible, one that says, you can beat us, but you're going to have to beat our best. You're going to have to beat us with our players showing the same clawing, dogged mentality they've learned in their last two pennant series. You're going to have to match and exceed that willingness to grind.

***

And then there was Jon Lester.

Specifically, there was Jon Lester's sixth inning.

Bay's two-run homer had given him a lead in the top of that frame, and this seemed to push Lester up another notch in ferocity as he took the hill (a phenomenon I've observed with Josh as well). The Angels hitters fouled off one devastating cutter after another - to a man, they looked unbalanced against that pitch, and frozen by Lester's curveball.

Some of the at-bats ran long because of those foul balls, but Lester faced the minimum in the inning, and all went down by way of the K--two swinging, and the last, Gary Matthews Jr., looking at an 89-mph cutter, on the outside corner, at the knees.

"Right on the black," was the announcer's call. "Right at the knees. No chance."

The only thing more breathtaking than the pitch was Lester's demeanor as he strode off the field following this effort. He bounded a few quick steps off the mound, then slowed to a swagger as he crossed the baseline. Every muscle seemed to stand out, in his shoulders, in his forearms, in his jaw. Just before the warning track, he pounded his pitching hand into his glove once. His eyes were alight.

It was a look I recognized - a smoldering, predatory gleam. This is how I described it once before:

As Pedro struggled and was replaced after the third, Beckett sat
glaring in the dugout, warmup jacket over one shoulder, his intensity
establishing an invisible field of solitude around him on the bench.
The transfer of power was nearly visible; whatever transcendental id possesses the gifted pitcher had left Pedro and begun to look out of Beckett's eyes.

[...]

Seven and two-thirds innings deep in the game, with four hits, two
runs, seven strikeouts, one walk, having hit 96 and 97 on the gun
consistently the whole night, Beckett walked off the mound to an
ovation that rivaled, if it didn't equal, the ones that Pedro had
received. When he doffed his cap, the roar swelled even louder. Pedro
can have all the charisma he wants, but it's that id we follow--that swing-and-a-miss magic.

Like any of the cycles of baseball, this one is inexorable and
seemingly eternal. We were reminded in the pre-game show of another
landmark matchup in which a torch was passed in Boston, the famous
first Pedro-Roger faceoff in Game 3 of the 1999 ALCS. We were reminded
that that game, too, had not been the duel everyone had hoped for
(though it was to be the only win for the Sox in that series). It's
happened before. It will happen again. Someday Josh Beckett will watch
as a younger man walks off the field with his glory. And that, too,
will be bittersweet.

It's a little different this time - less like the passing of a torch and more like the sharing of it, since I don't believe for a second Josh has finished unleashing his asskickery on the world. But it was a similar feeling--that same transcendental id I saw, shining out of Lester's eyes last night.

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